Free The Celibate Mouse by Diana Hockley

Thank you God, I can focus on this. Even though I’m about to lay myself bare to her scorn.
    ‘Well, you owe me and Brit an explanation. If he hadn’t come here today, how long would it have been before you told us about him?’
    I move over to the window, trying to decide how much I can reveal. Little has changed outside. The wind is still getting up speed, the cattle have moved down to the creek and are standing up to their bellies in water. The hens, tail feathers fluttering in a stiff breeze, are propelled along like yachts. The air smells clean and fresh out here–a mock orange tree at the back door sends it heavy, almost licentious aroma through the window. A normal day outside, but inside the house–inside me –life has turned upside down.
    Marli takes the initiative again. ‘Mum, sit down. I’m seventeen and leaving school for good at the end of this year. Don’t you think it’s time you told me all about how you met–Da–David–and got married and everything? Just start from how you came to join the force and when you met him.’
    My daughter swivels herself around in the armchair, leaning back against one armrest, her legs flopping over the other and waits. I wonder how to tackle this, then decide to recount it like the story of someone else’s disastrous life.
    ‘I’d always been a ‘good’ girl, the one your grandmother and my aunts said they could always depend on. This meant I got to mind my cousins while the adults played bridge or partied, and my friends and older cousins yahooed their way around the neighbourhood having fun. My bedroom was perfection. Even my dolls were well-behaved.’ My God, you were a sanctimonious little shit, Susan.
    ‘I bet Aunt Melanie wasn’t perfect,’ Marli cut in, grinning. My younger sister is a great favourite with my daughters.
    ‘Definitely not. Her dolls were thieves and harlots.’
    Marli smiled, sending relief coursing through me.
    ‘But I made up for lost time when I became a teenager and I thought I knew what I was missing. Everyone else was having a fabulous time clubbing and chasing boys. Well, men. And I got sick of being goody-two shoes. How much to tell? Good Girl became Party Girl, became Bad Girl. Booze–boys, bands, all the hot stuff. Your grandfather, who was nursing at the time, usually worked night shift. He changed to ‘days’ so he could track me after dark.’
    ‘You mean you were a wild girl, Mum?’ Marli’s eyes are as big as an owls.’
    My face glows hot. ‘Hm. Yes. I–er–got in with a rather fast crowd who lived on the edge. In spite of my best efforts, I came eyeball to eyeball with a number of juvenile police officers in the course of my short-lived career of mad abandon. One of them, who took a lot of trouble to find me a job, encouraged me to finish my schooling. I had an enormous crush on him for awhile. Fortunately, the dear man was honourable. I’d never actually been convicted of any crime, so when I was eighteen I joined the force.’
    ‘And started on your climb to break through the ‘glass ceiling’.’ Marli is triumphant on my behalf.
    ‘More like bounced off the tea urn; women still didn’t get many chances to shine. Making tea, counter duties, typing, licences and lost property, which included children. They were the female officer’s job. A lot of the men got a stunned-mullet look in their eyes and disappeared into the woodwork if a child was found wandering the street.’
    Marli laughed. I sigh, remembering the times my contributions had been overlooked, and the slights, crude jokes and ‘put downs’ I suffered at the hands of my male colleagues.
    ‘How did you get together with him? David?’
    ‘I partnered David on street patrol. He was an absolute hunk, always had teenage girls vying for his lordly attention which of course he lapped up.’
    ‘So, did he know you fancied him?’ Marli asks, grinning.
    ‘I doubt it. Too busy glittering. Of course, every time he came near me, I had a